


Every Breath You Take

by Mississippi_moon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Asthma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mississippi_moon/pseuds/Mississippi_moon
Summary: A series of one-shots in which Merlin suffers from asthma and Arthur is very concerned and doesn't hide it well at all.
Comments: 41
Kudos: 212





	1. The Moment of Truth

Arthur had always known there was something different about Merlin. Sure, there was that inexplicable wisdom that only came through during Camelot’s most desperate hours. And then there was the fact that he usually did the opposite of what he’d been told, and he had always talked back to Arthur, like Arthur was just an annoying older brother. It was utterly ridiculous how that idiot boy could worm his way into the heart of even the coldest of men. 

That’s why the prince kept an eye on his servant—because whatever he was hiding, Arthur had a feeling it was important. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t stay a secret for long. After all, Merlin never was very good at lying.

Arthur had always thought that Merlin was just out of shape. He seemed to be easily winded quite often, despite spending most of his time running after Arthur or away from bandits or evil undead soldiers. Arthur couldn’t help but think it to be something more. However, he never mentioned anything to Merlin. Arthur wasn’t quite sure why. 

Something changed in the very air at springtime, when the final frost had finally relented, allowing the wildflowers to blossom once again. But Arthur could hardly enjoy it. Merlin had begun sniffling in the early hours of the morning, grating on the prince’s last nerve.

“ _ Mer _ lin, must you keep making all that racket while I’m trying to read this report?” Arthur finally blurted. 

The idiot didn’t even turn to face him, he just kept fluffing Arthur’s pillows with a mild shrug. “I’ve got allergies,  _ sire.  _ Can’t help it.” 

Arthur snorted. “Try holding your breath. Forever.” 

Merlin turned around at that, his brow drawing together in a disapproving pout. Arthur smirked, delighted as ever to get a rise out of his servant. Merlin turned back to his task, mumbling something under his breath. Arthur shook his head and focused back on the document in his hand. It was rather boring, reading about the uneventful patrols at the southern border, but it was still Arthur’s duty to oversee them. 

Merlin sneezed. Three times. 

“ _ Merlin!” _

* * *

Arthur was ready for a nice, warm bath. He had spent most of the afternoon training some of the younger knights. The prince was proud of his men and how far they had already come in such a short time, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit irritable. Arthur had worked up quite a sweat out there, and his limbs were sore and aching all over. Yes, he would be needing a bath immediately.

Arthur headed for the armory, smirking to himself as he walked. He had sent Merlin there earlier, when his servant simply could not stop sneezing. It didn’t actually bother the prince all that much, but he jumped at the opportunity to tease the serving boy whenever it presented itself. Merlin had likely spent all afternoon sharpening swords and cleaning Arthur’s remaining gear. Arthur couldn’t wait to see Merlin’s face when he saw how dirty Arthur’s armor had gotten from the training fields. 

The prince burst through the doors, expecting to see Merlin startle and drop something. Arthur frowned. Merlin had jumped a bit, but his back was turned away. He was huddled on the floor, leaning a hand against the stone wall opposite from Arthur. 

“I’ve got more armor for you to polish,” Arthur teased, though with uncertainty. 

Merlin didn’t even acknowledge him. Something felt off about the way Merlin was sitting—he was gripping the stone as if his life depended on it. Arthur could see his shoulders heaving from the other side of the room. The prince’s stomach did somersaults. 

“Merlin? Have you gone deaf?”

No response. Arthur’s feet seemed to move of their own accord and suddenly the prince was crouching next to Merlin, whose head was decidedly turned away from Arthur. It was only when Arthur was close enough that he could hear it. Horrible wheezing, stuttering breaths and desperate, choked off gasps—all coming from Merlin. The boy was shaking,  _ trembling _ . He started to cough, but it sounded unnatural, like all the air in the room just wasn’t enough for his lungs.

Fear clutched at Arthur’s chest, suddenly and sharply like a dart had pierced his heart. The prince’s mind went straight to that time, only a few months ago, when Merlin had been poisoned. He had shuddered and coughed and gasped before he collapsed, already beginning to slip away. It had been a close call. Too close.

“ _ Shit _ , Merlin. What happened?” Arthur asked too desperately, though he hardly cared. 

Merlin’s head finally turned towards Arthur. His eyes were wide and wet with naked fear. He reached out and grabbed Arthur’s arm with one hand and his own throat with the other. It was too similar to the poison. Arthur could hardly bear it. 

“I’m taking you to Gaius. Right now.”

Merlin just wheezed, his shoulders heaving with every gasp. Arthur tried not to panic as he lifted Merlin to a standing position. The boy leaned heavily on Arthur, but the prince supported him with ease. Merlin had always been mere skin and bones.

It seemed like hours before they finally reached the physician’s chambers. Merlin gasps had somehow become more frantic, and he leaned almost all of his weight on Arthur now. Arthur flung the wooden door open with his foot and hastily sat Merlin down on the patients’ cot, keeping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Arthur felt every frantic breath Merlin took.

“Sire? What—oh, my boy.”

Gaius had materialized at Arthur’s side. The prince had been so preoccupied that he hadn’t even noticed the older man until he had spoken. Arthur tore his gaze away from Merlin to stare up at the physician.

“What’s happening to him?” 

Gaius didn’t answer. He was already on the move, gathering items from his many shelves before scurrying back over. The old physician crouched down, resting one hand on Merlin’s knee. 

“Calm down, Merlin. You need to take this.” 

Gaius held out a small vial full of white liquid. Merlin seemed to recognize it. His eyes widened and he shook his head fiercely.

“Merlin. You have to take it  _ now _ . I know you don’t like it, but you  _ need _ it.” 

The room fell into a tense silence, filled only with Merlin’s horrible gasping. He looked ready to pass out. Arthur couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Take it, Merlin!” Arthur yelled suddenly, surprising even himself.

The boy actually flinched, but his shoulders folded in defeat. He took the medicine—whatever it was—and emptied it in one frantic gulp. 

“That’s it. Now, breathe with me,” Gaius said, resting a hand on Merlin’s chest.

Merlin seemed to know what the physician was doing because a second later, he reached out a hand and laid it on Gaius’ chest as well. Gaius then took a deep, exaggerated breath. Merlin followed suit, though his breath hitched and rattled in his lungs as he did so. He still couldn’t get in quite as much air as Gaius, but he released the small breath he had taken with a bit less panic. Merlin slowly regained control of his breathing as he let Gaius guide him. Only when the wheezing had lessened significantly did Arthur’s heart stop racing. 

Without saying a word, Gaius gently pushed Merlin back on the cot. Merlin must have been utterly exhausted because he didn’t resist at all. He just laid back and his eyes fluttered shut. Arthur swallowed, staring at Gaius incredulously. Gaius held a finger to his lips, then gestured for the prince to follow him. Arthur frowned, reluctant to leave after the absolute shitstorm that had just occurred, but he supposed that Gaius wouldn’t leave if he thought Merlin was in any more danger. 

Gaius wandered out into the hallway, slipping the door closed after Arthur followed him out. 

“What the  _ hell _ was all that?” Arthur blurted through his clenched teeth in a sort of yelled whisper.

The physician held up a patient hand, signalling to Arthur to be calm. “It was an asthma attack. His allergies must’ve triggered it.”

Arthur frowned. “Asthma?”

Gaius nodded. “It’s an ailment of the lungs, sire. Merlin has had attacks like these since he was a child.”

Arthur blinked. This had happened to Merlin before? Since he was a  _ child _ ? Arthur had thought Merlin had been poisoned, for gods’ sake.

“How did I not know about this?” Arthur demanded. He really didn’t mean to sound angry, or accusatory, but it always seemed to come out like that. But he certainly wasn’t worried about Merlin. He  _ wasn’t _ . 

“Merlin rarely gets attacks anymore since he’s lived in Camelot. I’ve been giving him medication that has helped relieve his symptoms significantly.”

“So what just happened in there, then?”

Gaius shrugged, though his eyes revealed his concern. “Asthma is tricky, I’m afraid. There is no cure for it, just precaution. His medication reduces the symptoms, but it can flare up at times.” 

Arthur swept his fingers through his hair. “So this could happen again? At any time?”

The physician nodded gravely. 

“What should I do? If it happens again?”

Gaius cocked an eyebrow at Arthur’s blatant concern, but the prince could hardly be bothered. He did not ever want to feel that helpless ever again. 

“I give him an ephedra-based concoction when it gets really bad like this, but it gives him a headache and makes him feel nauseous afterwards.” Gaius shook his head with a fond smile. “Stubborn boy hates to take it.” He cocked his head as if another thought struck him. “He’ll need to sleep it off for a few hours.”

Arthur accepted this response, though his frown remained. What if he hadn’t found Merlin there? Would he have been able to get to Gaius in time? The prince shivered at the horrible thought of finding his servant in the armory, suffocated alone by such an awful disease.

“Of course he shall have the evening off.”

Gaius smiled kindly, patting Arthur’s hand before turning back to the door.

“Wait, Gaius.” The old man turned to face him once again. “Make sure that idiot keeps that concoction on his person at all times after this.” Arthur paused a moment, swallowing past his pride creeping up his throat. “I also would like to have a bottle. Just in case.”

The physician just smiled again. “As you wish.” 


	2. The Prat Makes a Silent Vow

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Merlin paused, his fingers ghosting over Arthur’s shoulder before resuming his fidgeting with the red leather again. “I thought the worst of it was behind me,” the servant said after a moment. “I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

Arthur turned to face Merlin, who simply shrugged up at him. 

Arthur scoffed. “You’re an even bigger idiot than I initially thought, then. You don’t keep something like that a secret. Did you honestly think I’d never find out?” 

Merlin’s face reddened a bit under the scrutiny. He looked almost guilty for some reason. “Like I said, I thought the worst was behind me. Perhaps I was hoping that it might even go away entirely. Besides, I didn’t want you to treat me any differently.” 

Arthur blinked. He supposed he could understand Merlin’s desire not to be treated differently, but  _ still _ . 

“Well, obviously this  _ asthma _ or whatever it is isn’t going to just magically disappear,  _ Mer _ lin. You shouldn’t have kept this from me. Nearly caused me a damn heart attack.”

Merlin just raised an eyebrow in response. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t hide the self-satisfied smirk that tugged at his lips. It was infuriating for Arthur to look at.

“Don’t go getting a big head to match those ears of yours,” Arthur jabbed, ignoring Merlin’s indignant  _ hey  _ as he continued on, “you wouldn’t be able to stand upright anymore. Then who would clean my socks?” 

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “I would give anything to have someone else wash your socks,  _ sire _ . But then again, it would be cruel to condemn another man to such a terrible fate.” 

To his credit, Merlin was quick when he wanted to be. He had ducked at the perfect time, avoiding the golden goblet that Arthur had sent sailing through the air towards Merlin’s head. The servant disappeared through the door with one last mischievous grin thrown back at Arthur. The prince shook his head, smiling fondly despite himself. 

Yet, his smile quickly faded. Merlin had always been good at deflecting, and he had managed to bury the issue at hand in their usual, mindless banter. Arthur would just have to make sure that the idiot wouldn’t get himself killed in his recklessness. The small vial of medicine—ephedra, Gaius had called it ephedra—suddenly weighed down Arthur’s pocket. 

He hoped he would never have to use it.


	3. Next Time, Just Let Me

Merlin had been a bit wheezy all day. At first, Arthur had pegged it as Merlin being dramatic (honestly,Arthur wouldn’t put it past him). The prince wasn’t an idiot. He had noticed Merlin’s disdain for Cedric and how his mood had soured when the peasant had been invited to join them on the hunt. However, the farther the small group crept into the forest, the more strained Merlin’s breathing seemed to get. Something that Arthur couldn’t quite identify squeezed at his chest. 

“Everyone spread out, cover more ground,” he ordered, trying to sound nonchalant. 

His men nodded without hesitation and began to disperse. Only Cedric looked uncertain, lingering near Arthur and Merlin a moment before also turning away under Arthur’s pointed stare. The prince found himself rolling his eyes before focusing on his manservant. 

“Merlin, sit down for a minute.”

“I’m—I’m alright,” Merlin said, though he sat down anyway.

“Did you take your medication this morning?”

The boy tensed, looking uneasy.

“ _ Merlin,”  _ Arthur chastised. 

Merlin flinched, his wheezing turning into sharp gasps. “I may have missed… a few doses with all that’s… happened in the vaults.”

Arthur’s heart flipped behind his ribs. “How many?” 

Merlin wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Four.”

The prince pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _ Mer _ lin, what were you thinking?”

Merlin didn’t respond. He had started that awful, panicky cough as his lungs begged for air. Arthur’s frustration left him as he saw Merlin’s breathing worsen. He planted himself on the log next to Merlin. 

“Do you have your ephedra bottle?” Arthur asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too concerned.

Merlin nodded jerkily, his shoulders heaving with every shuddering breath. “Yes, but I… I don’t need it.” 

Arthur gaped at him. “What do you mean? You're having an attack. You need to take it!”

Merlin just shook his head. Arthur balled his fists. He knew how annoyingly stubborn Merlin could be, but this was just ridiculous. How could he so blatantly ignore his own condition when it got this serious?

“I—I’ll be… fine… just give me… a minute.” Merlin wasn’t fooling anyone, the idiot. Arthur was surprised he could even speak at this point. 

“You know, I have my own bottle with me. Don’t make me force-feed it to you like a damn foal.”

The servant glared up at Arthur, but the prince could tell he was quickly losing his resolve. Merlin had begun to untie his neckerchief, as if that would somehow help clear his constricting throat. Arthur shook his head incredulously. 

“I’ll give you to the count of three,” Arthur warned, feeling very much like a scolding mother. 

Merlin looked absolutely murderous, but he finally caved. Breathing hard, he dug into his pocket and produced the little bottle of medicine. The servant grimaced, then downed the bottle in one swig. 

“There. Now, was that so hard?”

Merlin just released a sigh, followed by another attempt at a deep, calming breath. The prince suddenly remembered the breathing exercises that Gaius had done with Merlin before. 

“Do you… need help?” Arthur asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly unsure of himself. 

Arthur felt his cheeks flush for some reason as Merlin shook his head, focusing on calming his breathing. Thankfully, Merlin’s eyes were closed, so he failed to notice Arthur’s discomfort in offering to help. The prince decided it was safe to leave Merlin to it for a moment while he called for his men to regather. He remembered what Gaius had told him about the side-effects of the medication, and therefore, Merlin would need to get back to Camelot to rest. 

When the hunting party had reassembled, Arthur addressed them with his most authoritative voice. “We’re going to have to cut this hunting party short. Everyone gather your things and return to the horses as swiftly as possible.”

“But Sire, we have yet to catch anything.” It was Cedric who had spoken. 

Arthur looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “We return to Camelot. Now.” 

Cedric ducked his head in compliance, though he looked agitated. Arthur frowned, but turned back to where Merlin was sitting. 

“Can you make it back to your horse?”

Merlin looked up, a frown hardening his features. “We’re leaving?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

Arthur blinked. “Well, yes. You should be back in Camelot.”

“What? Arthur, I told you I’m fine.” Merlin was attempting to stand now as if to prove himself. 

“No, you’re not. This condition is serious, Merlin, and I don’t know how that escapes your notice. Even for an idiot like you.”

Merlin scowled. “This is exactly what I meant when I said I didn’t want to be treated differently.”

Arthur flinched. For some reason, Merlin’s words had hit home. Why was Merlin making it so damn hard to simply look out for him? 

Arthur felt his expression harden as Merlin met his gaze. “Fine. Then we’ll continue on.” Arthur tried not to wince at the ice in his own voice. 

Merlin simply clenched his jaw, nodding curtly. Arthur spun around and plunged his men back into the hunt, not even turning to see if Merlin had caught up. 

* * *

“I’ve not forgotten about your lazy, insolent ways, or the fact that you called me a  _ clotpole _ . But, I do have to admit that there was some truth in your accusations against Cedric.”

“Does this mean you’re admitting that on this occasion I was actually right?” 

Merlin had the audacity to smile so widely that Arthur didn’t know whether to smack him or to smile too. He opted to annoy Merlin instead. 

“Not exactly, no. It means that I have a knighthood to bestow first thing tomorrow and no one to clean my armor.” Arthur then proceeded to dump his armor onto the table before a rather appalled-looking Merlin. 

“All that?”

“Yep,” Arthur said cheerily, before heading towards the door. He paused, lingering, before turning back for a moment. “I thought about what you said in the forest and you were right. I was treating you differently and—”

Merlin held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I just got so frustrated with everything and I took it out on you. You were just trying to protect me.” 

Arthur felt a small smile tugging at his lips. “Next time, just let me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, the boys can be really dramatic when I write them. Gotta love them for it. Thank you for your reviews! XO


	4. The Fires of Guilt

“Probably just travelers passing through,” Arthur said, touching the still-warm hearth in the middle of the dark ruins of Idirsholas.

“Or maybe not,” Merlin replied, his voice almost dripping with sarcasm.

Arthur whirled around to see seven strange-looking knights advancing on them. He had hardly a moment to register his shock before he was thrust into battle. They were like nothing he had ever fought before, with dark masked faces and large, hulking bodies. They swung quite slowly, but no matter how many hits Arthur managed to deliver, the monstrous knights just kept swinging. 

“Merlin, go!” Arthur yelled into the dark, praying that for once, he would listen. And of course, Merlin didn’t. He stayed stubbornly by Arthur’s side, the idiot. “Do as I say,” Arthur cried with more vigor, shoving Merlin towards the doorway. 

Arthur now faced all seven on his own. He hoped to hold them off long enough to let Merlin escape. However, the second Arthur made an advance, the building began to crumble around them. The prince felt a surprisingly strong arm pull him back from the rubble and in that split second, he made his choice. He turned and ran.

* * *

It had all been too much. The sickness, the invasion, and finally, what happened to Morgana… 

When Merlin doubled over in the throne room, drawing in painful gasps, Arthur had been half-expecting it. He said nothing, just spared his now-conscious father a glance before looping his arm around Merlin’s and dragging him down to Gaius’ quarters. 

“Merlin, calm down. Try to breathe slowly,” Arthur advised, trying to sound soothing. He sounded more like a frightened maiden. 

They were almost to the door when Merlin’s feet gave out and Arthur, still weak from the strange sickness, toppled to the ground. Arthur cursed, then grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and propped him against the stone wall. Merlin was full-on crying, his eyes bright with fear and guilt and tears. Every breath sounded broken, even as they grew weaker. Arthur felt his own eyes burn a bit as he handed Merlin his own bottle of ephedra that he always carried with him. 

Merlin looked up at Arthur sadly, as if noticing him there for the first time. He took the bottle with shaking hands without arguing. Arthur should’ve been grateful that Merlin wasn’t resisting for once, but it managed to make him worry even more. Merlin only did what he was told when his spirit was broken, which happened maybe only once before. It shook Arthur to the core. 

Once Merlin had swallowed the medicine, Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Just breathe with me, alright?”

Merlin didn’t reply. He just breathed as deeply as he could, the wheezing slowly fading away. Still, he couldn’t quite control himself yet and let out an occasional sob. It was a horrible, broken sound that Arthur hoped he would never hear again. 

“It—it’s my fault. Morgana,” Merlin choked out. He was still wheezing.

Arthur touched his forehead to Merlin’s. “Don’t talk, Merlin. It wasn’t your fault. Now, breathe.”

More tears slipped down Merlin’s cheeks, but he obeyed, taking a slightly deeper breath. Arthur breathed with Merlin until he fell asleep right there in the hallway. The prince only moved when Gaius found them there a few minutes later. Arthur ignored the physician’s questions and carried Merlin straight to his bed. 

And if he wiped Merlin’s tears from his face behind the closed door, no one was there to prove it.


	5. Captured: Part One

“I don’t think she’ll be here,” Merlin whispered. 

Arthur rolled his eyes and crouched lower, peering between two thin trees and down into the camp below. 

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check, would it?” Arthur whispered back, trying to sound as obnoxious as he could. 

“Morgause took her, not a bunch of bandits.” 

Arthur swallowed. Of course he knew that, but he still had to check everywhere, just to be sure. It had been almost a year since that terrible day. Morgana could be dead, or maybe even worse. 

“I’m not sure those are bandits. They could be mercenaries, or—”

Arthur went silent at the sound of swords clanging to his right. He whirled around and saw that two of his knights had been ambushed. The prince cursed, then leapt to their aid, drawing his sword and swinging it out in one fluid motion. He kept his back to Merlin, hoping to keep his enemy’s attention away from his servant. 

It worked a little too well. More men melted from the trees and started to surround Arthur. They were suddenly severely outnumbered, but Arthur didn’t allow himself to think. He just pressed forward and sliced down as many adversaries as he could. The prince heard a deep rumbling sound to his left and jolted back, only to see three bandits fall prey to a landslide. 

_That was lucky_ , Arthur thought. 

Now they had less of a disadvantage. Arthur plunged himself back into battle with renewed vigor. He could feel fires of hope fueling him—they were going to win this. 

But then, that’s when Arthur heard it. A small, strangled cry of surprise, so quiet in the midst of a raging battle but it may as well have been a scream to Arthur’s ears. The prince searched desperately for the source of the sound, though he already knew who had made it and what it meant.

“Surrender, or he dies,” a voice boomed. 

And finally, Arthur saw. One of the bandits was holding a sword pressed against Merlin’s throat. Merlin, whose temple was bleeding and whose eyes were cloudy and filled with guilt. _Guilt._ And that was just like Merlin, wasn’t it? If Arthur wasn’t worried for his friend’s life, then he’d slap some sense into him. 

Arthur all but growled, letting his sword fall harmlessly onto the forest floor. The man who held Merlin smirked, his grip tightening around Merlin’s throat. Arthur clenched his fist when Merlin cried out.

“Take the survivors,” the man ordered.

Arthur had little time to register that they were all about to be imprisoned before he felt a sharp pain split through his head and everything went dark.

* * *

Arthur knew he was in some kind of dungeon before he even opened his eyes. They all smelled the same—dingy and soiled from overcrowding. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Arthur was lying on the cold, hard floor. For a moment, he assumed that he was alone. However, as his eyes adjusted, he saw movement in the corner of the small cell. 

“You’re finally awake! I was worried they smashed that turnip-head of yours too hard.”

Arthur blinked. “ _Merlin_?”

Merlin grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The one and only.” 

The servant stretched out his arm and Arthur took it, allowing Merlin to help him sit up. Gods, his head was pounding. 

“Ugh. Where are we?”

“I’m not sure, they blindfolded me. All I know is that we walked a long way. I dragged my feet as much as I could to leave a trail, though I’m not sure how much it’ll help,” Merlin said with a shrug, though his eyes still had that guilty glint in them.

Arthur didn’t understand why _Merlin_ felt guilty at all. If anything, it was Arthur’s fault that they were in this mess. He should have protected Merlin better. 

“Well, I don’t say this often, but good thinking. My father will send out a patrol as soon as he realizes I’m missing.” 

Merlin nodded, coughing a bit as he did so. “I just hope they come in time. I think these people are slave traders.” 

Arthur groaned. He really hated slave traders. When Arthur became king, he’d hunt down every last one and liberate his people from this horrible plague on their lands. 

“How does your head feel?” Merlin asked as he lowered himself to sit on the ground next to Arthur.

“Not great, but it’s been worse.”

“I don’t think you have a concussion, but I think you should try to stay awake for a few hours to be safe.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. He hated to admit it, but Merlin was probably right. He was a physician in training, after all.

“What about you?” Arthur asked after a moment.

Merlin looked confused. “What _about_ me?”

“I saw you when they attacked. What did they do to you?”

Merlin cleared his throat. “I’m fine. Just a few scratches.”

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Arthur blurted before he could stop himself.

Merlin was quiet, picking at the straw on the stone floor.

Arthur pressed on. “There was nothing you could’ve done, you idiot. So stop beating yourself up about it. Besides, the knights of Camelot are going to storm through those doors and take these traders down. It’s only a matter of time.”

Merlin still stared at the straw like it was the most interesting thing in the five kingdoms. “ _You’re_ not to blame, Arthur. You did the best you could.”

Arthur hadn’t said anything about his own guilt, but then he supposed he didn’t need to. Merlin always read him like an open book and it was infuriating. Arthur was prepared to retort and diffuse the tension, but Merlin leaned back and curled in on himself. 

“Are you going to take a _nap_?” Arthur demanded incredulously.

“Yes, _sire_. I haven’t slept in over a day, while you slept the entire way here.”

“I was _unconscious_!”

“Goodnight.”

“What am I supposed to do now? You said I have to stay awake!”

“So stay awake. And shut up.”

“ _Merlin!”_

* * *

Merlin was coughing. A lot.

Not that Arthur could really blame him—this place was disgusting. But the more frequent his coughing became, the more a prickling feeling of worry twisted up in his gut. Arthur told himself that he was just being paranoid. The dark dungeon was getting to him. After all, he’d been sitting in the dark for what must’ve been hours. 

As time dragged on, Arthur couldn’t ignore it any longer. Merlin wasn’t just coughing anymore. He was struggling for air.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, tugging gently at his friend’s shoulder so as not to startle him. 

Merlin didn’t move. “I’m awake,” he said.

“You alright?” Arthur didn’t know what else to say.

“Fine. You can probably sleep now.”

Arthur frowned, but he leaned back. Maybe he really was just paranoid. He’d been listening to nothing but Merlin breathing for hours. Perhaps he was just imagining things.

But Arthur couldn’t relax. It didn’t feel right. So he simply lay there, his mind swirling with apprehension and uncertainty. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he realized that Merlin was now gasping, drawing in desperate gulps of air. 

Arthur cursed, sitting up and pulling Merlin up with him. 

“Come on, Merlin, not now! You haven’t had an attack in almost a year.” 

Merlin was past being able to speak. He just looked tired and afraid. Arthur pulled Merlin towards him so that Merlin’s head leaned against his chest. Merlin’s hands fidgeted with Arthur’s tunic as he sucked in another useless breath.

“Calm down, Merlin. Take your medicine.”

Merlin shook his head, his lungs rattling. “They… they took it,” he gasped.

Arthur’s heart constricted. _Oh hell._ Arthur searched his own pockets and found them empty as well. _Shit, shit, shit._

Arthur didn’t know what to _do._

“Merlin, what did you do before Gaius’ medicine? When you were a kid?”

Merlin just shook his head, burrowing against Arthur’s chest. “Just… help me breathe.”

Arthur’s heart was pounding, but he took deep, calming breaths. _For Merlin, for Merlin, always for Merlin._ Merlin struggled to match Arthur, but he wasn’t gasping and coughing anymore. They sat there, breathing in the dark for what felt like days. Eventually, Merlin somehow fell asleep, but his breaths were shallow and he was still wheezing. Arthur moved Merlin’s head to rest on his lap and hopefully open his lungs up just a bit more. 

Arthur cursed this stupid, awful disease for the hundredth time. If it took his friend’s life right here in this dark, cold place, Arthur might just lose it. If he could trade his lungs for Merlin’s, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Merlin just didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t fair. 

Arthur laid a hand lightly on Merlin’s chest, tracking his breathing. “Only you would be born with the worst lungs in the whole of Camelot,” Arthur joked, though he sobered quickly. “Don’t you dare die on me, Merlin. Show those stupid lungs of yours who’s in charge.”

The silence that met him was permeated only by rattling lungs.


	6. Captured: Part Two

Arthur still couldn’t sleep a wink. He just couldn’t help it—he was overwhelmed with worry. Merlin’s shallow, labored breathing was all Arthur could hear in their dark cell. The prince could practically feel his friend’s chest rattle against his leg as he drew in each staggering breath. Arthur must’ve sat there for hours, staring into the dark and absent-mindedly running his nervous fingers through Merlin’s dark hair. He wasn’t quite sure if he did it to reassure Merlin or himself. Perhaps both. 

“Oi, what’s the matter with ‘im?” a passing guard yelled suddenly, banging on the bars loudly.

Merlin jolted awake, but he lacked the energy to move anything other than his head. Arthur pushed him back down.

“He’s sick. You took his medicine from our pockets. If he doesn’t get it—”

“Is it contagious?”

“I—no, it’s not contagious. The medicine is in a little bottle, and—hey, where the hell are you going?”

“Long as he doesn’t infect anyone else, ’s not my problem.”

Arthur moved Merlin off him with care, though there was a fire burning in his chest. He advanced towards the guard, imagining what he’d do to the man’s head if Arthur had a sword in his hands. 

“His life is in your hands, how can you simply ignore that?”

The guard shrugged, a smirk at his lips.

Arthur clenched his fists indignantly. “If you don’t help us, I’ll hunt you down myself when I get out of here.”

The man simply laughed. “Do yourself a favor and remember this—his life means nothing here and so does yours,” he paused and glanced down at Merlin for the first time. “It’s probably better if he dies here, anyway. Life of a slave’s never a pleasant one, ’specially for one like him.”

Arthur felt a confusing surge of emotions flood through him at the words. Rage, disgust, sadness, helplessness. He slammed his palms against the iron door, screaming and cursing at the guard that retreated down the dark hallway. 

_ If he dies, oh gods, if he dies I’ll raze this entire place to the ground. But he can’t, he can’t, he won’t…  _

Merlin started coughing again. Arthur spun around, forgetting his useless quarrel with the cell door when he saw that Merlin was trying to sit up.

“Merlin, stop. Lie back down before you make things worse.”

Merlin shook his head, but his eyes were glazed and tired. He couldn’t even fight against Arthur’s gentle nudge and he melted back onto the cold stone. 

“Just try to relax,” Arthur suggested, though he might’ve been talking to himself. 

Merlin said nothing. He probably couldn’t if he tried. He simply reached for Arthur’s hand and the prince took it, his palm firm around Merlin’s shaking fingertips.

“You’re such a girl, Merlin.”

There was a ghost of a smile on Merlin’s lips and for a moment that was all that mattered. 

* * *

In the end, it didn’t take long for the knights of Camelot to find them. The slave traders had been sloppy in their confidence, making their trail easy to trace. Not to mention Merlin’s efforts to leave a clear trail as well. 

Arthur refused to let them take Merlin from him. His knights swarmed them, insisting they wanted to help, but Arthur couldn’t bear it. Merlin wouldn’t wake and his breathing was extremely shallow, his face pale, and the skin below his eyes was dark and sunken. And Arthur felt responsible. So the prince carried his servant out of that wretched place on his own. His knights offered him a horse and Arthur accepted, though it felt like he was in some kind of haze. His only thoughts were:  _ get Merlin to safety. _

Arthur rode at the front of the group at a brisk pace. Merlin sagged against him while Arthur listened to his wheezing. The prince let his instincts take control and guide him back home, his thoughts entirely consumed by worry. When Sir Bedivere suggested that they stop to rest, Arthur just barked out orders to keep going. Still, it felt like too much time had passed when they finally reached the citadel. 

Arthur was downright exhausted. His body shook with strain as he dismounted, but he had half a mind to ask Sir Bedivere to help him take Merlin to Gaius. Bedivere did so without hesitation, perhaps so that he could be sure that Arthur would also visit the physician. Arthur didn’t care to ask, he just forced his feet to climb the castle steps. Arthur knew that Bedivere carried all of Merlin’s weight, but he still couldn’t quite let go of his servant yet.

“Sire, you’re back! Your father—” Gaius’ face fell as he recognized Merlin, lifeless between Arthur and Bedivere. “What happened?”

Arthur finally let Merlin go as Bedivere moved to lay him on the patients’ cot. 

“His asthma—it got really bad when we were captured, and they took away the medicine. There was nothing I could do to fix it,” Arthur explained, hoping no one noticed how his voice had cracked.

Gaius touched Merlin’s forehead with a tenderness that Arthur had only recently come to understand. It was a gesture of obvious affection and worry. Arthur realized with a bit of surprise that he had done the same thing quite a few times in the past few days. 

Arthur barely even noticed Bedivere slip from the room as Gaius started brewing something. The prince sat on the bench across from the physician and watched him work quietly for a moment.

“Will he be alright?”

“I believe so, once I give him this tonic. Though, his lungs have likely been damaged after so much strain.”

Arthur swallowed, his eyes sweeping over to Merlin. He hated this so much.

“Are you sure there’s no cure?” Arthur asked, picking absently at a splinter on the table.

“As far as I’m aware, no. I know it’s not fair, but Merlin is strong. He’ll be alright.”

Arthur frowned, yanking the splinter out with a flare of anger. “Until something like this happens again. Gaius, I thought he was improving.”

The physician didn’t respond, though he was frowning contemplatively at his potion as if it would offer him a solution.

“What if… what if there already is a cure?” Arthur asked slowly.

Gaius set down his ladle, giving Arthur an incredulous stare. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I mean, what if,” Arthur lowered his voice to a whisper, “what if there’s a magical cure for it?”

“ _ Sire _ , you cannot be suggesting—”

“I know how dangerous it could be,  _ believe _ me, I know. I just don’t think I can let this continue if there is a way to cure it out there.”

Gaius looked like he was about to implode. “Arthur, if your father ever found out, he would have Merlin killed without a second thought! And even if there was a magical cure, where on earth would you ever find a sorcerer  _ stupid enough _ —”

“I could find someone outside of Camelot’s borders. I just feel like I owe it to him to try.”

“I don’t want to hear any more talk of this, do you understand me?” Gaius talked slowly, carefully, as if he was measuring out what to say. “It’s too dangerous—for Merlin especially. Please, Arthur. I know you just want to help, but this would only make things worse.”

Arthur wanted to argue, but the defeated look in Gaius’ eyes made him shut his mouth. The prince looked down at his own hands, feeling a sudden rush of shame. Of course Gaius was afraid. He knew more than anyone what had happened during the Great Purge. Arthur knew he should be afraid as well, but he wasn’t. His fear for Merlin outweighed his fear of magic. Yet again, Arthur found himself surprised at his attachment to the boy. When had Arthur started to genuinely care for the idiot?

“I’m sorry, Gaius. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Arthur whispered.

With a final glance at Merlin, Arthur took his leave.


	7. Captured: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's some fluffy, sappy bs because all I write is pain and suffering... Merlin sweetie I am so sorry--this one's for you.

“Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”

The chipper words were all the warning the prince received before the oppressive light of the rising sun assaulted his eyelids. 

“Ugh, _Mer_ lin, get _out_.” 

Wait. Merlin? Arthur shot up and squinted his eyes at the figure standing in front of the window.

“Always nice to be back,” Merlin said, his tone blatantly sarcastic.

“Lucky me,” Arthur quipped, though there was no bite to his words. In actuality, it relieved the prince greatly to see his friend up and looking like himself after several days of bedrest. “So, Gaius gave you the ‘all clear,’ then?”

Merlin nodded, though it looked like his mind was somewhere else. “Lots of work to catch up on.”

“You’d better get to it,” Arthur answered, mostly out of habit. 

“Of course, sire.” 

Arthur rose slowly as Merlin bustled about the room, tidying things and picking out Arthur’s attire for the day as he went. The prince tried not to notice the fact that Merlin wasn’t chattering mindlessly like he always did. Arthur was pretty sure he knew why, and Merlin’s barely-smothered coughs only confirmed it. 

“Gaius told me there may have been lasting damage after… you know, everything,” Arthur blurted, wincing at the obvious hesitation in his voice.

Merlin stilled, though his back was still turned to Arthur. “It’s just a minor cough from the irritation. It’ll go away in time.” His hands fumbled with a dirty tunic.

“You know you don’t have to be alright all the time. Let me know if you need a break.”

“I’m fine, really,” Merlin replied, finally turning to look Arthur in the eye. “But thank you, Arthur. I don’t remember all that happened, but you saved my life.”

Merlin moved as quickly as a viper, taking Arthur by surprise when he wrapped him in a hug. Arthur stiffened, but then he let go and actually returned the hug for a moment. _Gods_ , it was so unlike him, but he couldn’t quell the rush of affection that flooded his chest. It suddenly struck Arthur that this idiot boy was the closest he’d ever gotten to having a little brother. 

“Merlin, you’re crushing me.”

“Don’t be such a clotpole. I couldn’t crush you if I tried,” Merlin retorted, though he let go, looking a bit sheepish.

“Who knew the idiot could become self-aware?”

“You know what? I take it all back. And I want another day off.”

“If you don’t find me a clean tunic this instant, you’ll be put in the stocks.”

Merlin sighed exaggeratedly, though his eyes were shining. “As you wish, _sire_.”


	8. Fever: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long! I went on a camping trip for a week and then got so busy when I came back home. I’m going to try to grind out a lot of writing before I go back to school so be on the lookout! Thanks for all your support and happy reading.

Times were bad. 

Morgana had betrayed Camelot—betrayed her  _ family.  _ And nothing was as it had been before. Arthur could only watch as his own father crumbled to dust before his eyes. Uther was now a mere shell of what he had been. He was a living ghost. 

It was getting more difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Especially now, with the approach of a bitter winter and the threat of an illness sweeping through the lower town. Merlin was busy helping Gaius combat it, as was Guinevere. 

Arthur was feeling more alone than ever. 

The regent buried himself in his duties, not allowing himself a moment to stop and think. If he stopped, he knew he’d start to drown. 

When Arthur heard a somewhat frantic knock at his door in the late hours of the night, he initially was grateful for it. His aching mind rarely let him sleep these days and he needed a distraction from his own restless mind. 

But when he opened the door, his heart sank even lower. 

Leon stood there, looking grim and disheveled. It wasn’t a look Arthur was used to seeing. 

“What is it? Is it my father?” The words felt dry and painful in his throat. 

The knight shook his head. “No, sire. Gaius sent me. It’s about Merlin.”

“Can’t it wait until morning, then? He hasn’t been at work for a while, so—”

“Arthur, Merlin’s ill.”

There it was again. That awful feeling in Arthur’s gut that twisted up so tightly it  _ hurt _ . Not this. Arthur couldn’t do this, he couldn’t take it. 

Without another word, Arthur barreled his way down to the physician’s quarters. 

* * *

Arthur didn’t know where to look. The room was filled with sick patients, coughing, sweating and looking downright miserable. He sighed in relief when Gaius’ head popped up from behind the chaos. 

“Arthur,” Gaius said, his weariness evident in his voice. “He’s in his room. I’ll be there in a moment.” 

Arthur nodded and carefully picked his way through the labyrinth that was now Gaius’ chambers. When he got to the door to Merlin’s room, he hesitated for a moment. He stood there, like a coward, unable to face the reality of what was waiting for him. Once he saw it, it would make it all real. Arthur pushed the door open.

The first thing he noticed was the unnatural stillness compared to the havoc right outside. The second thing he noticed was Merlin, curled up in a ball on his bed, his features scrunched up with discomfort. Arthur could see the sweat on his brow and the flush of fever in Merlin’s cheeks before he even made it to the stool at his bedside. 

But once Arthur was seated, everything seemed to click into place in his mind. He was close enough to Merlin now to hear him wheezing, a sound that Arthur knew he’d never get used to, even though he’d heard it a hundred times. Arthur nervously began twisting his fist up in his own tunic to distract himself from the horribly familiar rattling in Merlin’s lungs. By the time Gaius staggered in, Arthur had wrinkled his tunic into a messy ball. 

Gaius looked at Arthur’s hands but said nothing. His features were drawn tight with stress and weariness as he gazed at Arthur.

“Gaius… I know you wouldn’t have sent for me if…” Arthur swallowed, his eyes trailing down to Merlin, so still and yet struggling so hard for every little breath.

“I told him to go home so many times, but you know how stubborn he can be,” Gaius said with a defeated sigh.

Arthur turned to look at the physician again and was shocked to see his eyes were glassy with barely-unshed tears. “What is this sickness?” 

“It’s lung fever. The second I recognized it I told him to go. It was too risky, but he wouldn’t listen, the stubborn boy.” Gaius laughed bitterly as he came around the other side of the bed and touched Merlin’s forehead. 

Arthur wanted to be angry at Merlin for his reckless bravery, but he just felt a swell of pride. Merlin only ever wanted to help people. 

“He’ll be alright, though?”

Gaius stared pensively at Merlin with a strange, melancholy smile. When he looked at Arthur again, the tears were back in his eyes. “I don’t know, Arthur. He hasn’t been responding to treatment and he’s only gotten worse.” His voice trailed off into a whisper, “I’m not sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

The news hit Arthur like a bolt of lightning through his heart. How could this have happened so quickly? And so soon after everything Arthur had already lost? Arthur shook his head, his eyes burning. No. No way. He would  _ not  _ lose Merlin too. 

In a flash, Arthur was sitting at the edge of Merlin’s bed. He reached out and grasped his servant’s hand and held it firmly. 

“You’re too stubborn for this,  _ Merlin _ . So stop being dramatic. You’re going to be fine.”

Merlin didn’t even flinch.


	9. Fever: Part Two

The dreadful night was full of waiting. 

Gaius traveled in and out, moving from patient to patient. He was wearing himself thin, but there was nothing Arthur could do. He couldn’t leave Merlin for even a moment. He was terrified that if he turned his back, Merlin would slip quietly away. So Arthur stayed, administering Gaius’ medicines and changing out the damp cloth on Merlin’s forehead when it got too warm. 

For the most part, Merlin was unresponsive. The sickness was so deep in him, he hardly had the strength to move. But occasionally, a cough attack would wrack through Merlin and would leave him shaking and retching and it downright scared the hell out of Arthur. And then he’d slip right back into that horrific stillness, leaving Arthur reeling and wondering which was worse. 

Arthur began to tell Merlin stories from his childhood because he couldn’t take the stillness any longer. It was the longest Arthur had ever talked to Merlin without getting interrupted by his stupid prattle. Arthur would give anything to hear it now. 

“Y’know, Merlin, I had a pretty great imagination as a kid. I’d play knight with Leon and defeat armies of dragons. But he was busy a lot, so I played it on my own too,” Arthur paused, swiping back Merlin’s hair from his face. “I had to do so much on my own before you came along. I never got to thank you for that.”

And just like that, something broke inside him and Arthur cried. He let it all out, everything that ached so terribly that it left a gaping hole in his chest. Why had this happened? What had Arthur done to deserve this much pain? What had Merlin done, besides selflessly helping people with no regard for his own well-being?  _ Gods,  _ Merlin deserved to  _ live _ more than anyone. 

Arthur wiped furiously at his tears until his face had dried. He reined in his emotions, feeling somewhat sheepish. That is, until he noticed the sudden silence. Merlin wasn’t wheezing anymore.

“Merlin?” 

Arthur reached down and pulled Merlin upwards. Merlin’s head fell forward limply onto Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur held him, but he felt nothing. Merlin wasn’t breathing. 

And then the tears were back again, burning and blurring Arthur’s eyes but nothing compared to the burning ache in his very soul. Arthur wailed, screamed for Gaius, screamed Merlin’s name and shook him with all his might. 

“Don’t do this, Merlin. Not you, not again. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, d-don’t…” Arthur hugged Merlin tighter, as if he could hold him to the world if he held him tight enough. “ _ Please.” _

“Arthur?”

Arthur flinched before he realized it was Gaius standing over him, his eyes searching but already filled with overwhelming sadness. 

“Gaius, you have to help him!”

Finally the tears gave way and began streaming down Gaius’ face. “I can’t—”

“No, don’t give me that, Gaius. I know you used to practice magic, and I—”

“Arthur, what are you—”

“I don’t care anymore! If you can do something, then save him.  _ Please _ .”

The old physician stood there stiffly, his face looking torn between shock and fear. But there was also profound grief in his eyes that seemed to drown out everything else. Gaius swallowed, looked at Merlin limp in Arthur’s arms, and nodded with determination. 

“I will do everything in my power to heal him.”

Arthur nodded back as Gaius sank down onto the bed next to the pair. The physician squeezed his eyes shut in concentration and began chanting quietly. Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s dark hair as his voice grew louder, and Arthur couldn’t help but shiver and hold Merlin tighter to him. 

“ _ Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare _ ,” Gaius chanted, over and over again. Arthur could hear the desperation growing in his voice. He couldn’t help but feel that they had wasted too much time, that they were far too late. 

“Merlin, please don’t let go. Don’t give in. Gaius needs you.  _ I  _ need you,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s hair, tears still slipping down his cheeks.

And as Arthur held his dying friend, begging him to hold on, he understood just how much he needed Merlin. Arthur simply wasn’t ready to let go.

The chanting came to an abrupt stop. Arthur jolted, staring up at Gaius. “Why did you—”

Merlin suddenly tensed up as his body erupted into a coughing fit. Arthur’s heart stuttered at the sound. He pushed Merlin up off his shoulder and held him steady as the cough subsided. 

“Merlin?” Arthur dared to hope.

Glazed blue eyes squinted up at him. “Arthur?” 

Arthur pulled Merlin back in, holding him tightly to his chest. “ _ Gods _ , Merlin. Don’t ever do that again,” Arthur demanded around the lump in his throat. 

Merlin just sagged against him, too exhausted to do much else. Arthur was okay with that, as long as he was breathing. Arthur was okay with anything, as long as Merlin kept breathing.


	10. Fever: Part Three

“I honestly don’t remember much, but…” Merlin eyed Arthur, looking uncertain.

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just… was it really that bad?”

Arthur chuckled bitterly. “Well, if you consider being on the brink of death as ‘bad,’ then yes, I’d say it was pretty bad.”

Merlin shook his head, his eyes widening. “I swear, I feel almost back to normal now. How can that be, if I was truly that sick  _ last night _ ?” 

Arthur shrugged, ignoring Gaius’ eyebrow out of the corner of his eye. “No idea. But you’re going to stay in this bed until all of the patients here are better. And so help me, gods, if you try to leave this room and you get sick again—”

“Arthur, that won’t—”

“Merlin, I’m practically king. Do not argue with me.”

Merlin’s mouth clamped shut, though he looked like a ruffled, angry puppy. 

“I’m afraid he’s right,” Gaius said with a reluctant sigh. “We cannot risk you contracting lung fever again.”

“Gaius, how am I supposed to improve as a physician if I can’t go out there and help when I’m needed?” Merlin demanded, throwing his arms down in frustration. 

Arthur caught the gleam of tears in Merlin’s eyes, even as he tried to hide it. Arthur knew that boy well enough to understand Merlin’s desire to help everyone he possibly could, and when he felt like he couldn’t, Merlin felt trapped and useless. Yes, Arthur knew that look, because he saw it in the mirror every single day. 

Gaius smiled kindly at his ward and took Merlin’s wrist up in his hand. “My dear boy, you must understand how dangerous the life of a physician can be, especially for you. You must rest and regain your strength this time, but as you grow, your body will build immunities to illnesses such as these. You just have to be patient.”

Merlin searched the physician’s eyes for a moment before he huffed and leaned back in defeat. Gaius nodded with a fond smile, setting down some kind of potion on Merlin’s bedside table before quitting the room to tend to his other patients. 

“I really hate this, Arthur.” Merlin said, though his eyes remained glued to the ceiling.

“If it’s any consolation, I hate it too.” 

Merlin turned his blue eyes over to Arthur, that uncertain look passing over his face again. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Merlin frowned. “I don’t know… I was pretty out of it for a while, but I could’ve sworn…”

Arthur’s heart jumped in his chest. Did Merlin know what Arthur had done, what he made Gaius do? Would he look at Arthur differently, for turning to the very thing that his father had fought against for years? Arthur wasn’t entirely sure, but he always had a feeling that Merlin was terrified of magic, with the way his breath hitched and he tensed up whenever it was mentioned. If he knew that Arthur had used it to save him, would he be angry, or scared? 

Merlin sighed, biting at his lip. “I never really told you much about my time in Ealdor, but it felt like the older I got, the more lonely I was. Anyways, if I hadn’t come to Camelot, I would’ve been lost. You’ve given me a home, so thanks for that.”

_ Oh.  _ Arthur blinked. So Merlin actually heard some of what Arthur said the night before.

_ I had to do so much on my own before you came along. I never got to thank you for that. _

“I meant what I said last night. It is I who should be thanking you,” Arthur replied, surprising himself with his serious tone.

Merlin smiled in that ridiculous, lopsided way, but his eyes were misty. “I didn’t know you had a polite bone in your body.”

Arthur laughed, though his eyes burned a little. “Shut up.”


	11. The Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Whew, it’s been a while. Hybrid classes are terrible and take up so much of my time, plus I have a bad case of senioritis… I’m not sure how often I’m going to be able to update these days, but I’m trying my best! Thank you so much for all your reviews. You all have been with me every step of the way. Much love.

“ _ Emrys _ ,” Morgana spat the name like it was dirty. “I should’ve known it was you all along.”

Merlin stood above Arthur in a protective stance. Arthur blinked up in confusion, wondering when his servant had entered the throne room. The king’s head spun and his vision threatened to go black. He could hardly move after that blow to the head, but he swallowed and forced himself to focus. 

“It’s over, Morgana. You cannot beat me,” Merlin said, his tone authoritative and solid.

Arthur had never seen Merlin like this. He sounded so sure of himself that even Arthur believed him. Merlin looked entirely in control, even  _ calm _ , in the face of the entirety of Morgana’s power and wrath.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I am a high priestess of the Old Religion,  _ Merlin _ .”

Arthur was so confused at that response. Morgana seemed almost uncertain that she could beat Merlin.  _ Merlin.  _ Was he missing something?

“Walk away. I won’t ask again.”

Morgana smirked, her eyes flashing wickedly. “It’s much too late for that. I might want you dead even more than brother dear.” 

Her head swiveled to meet Arthur’s gaze. Morgana’s eyes blazed with fury and hatred. For  _ him.  _ Arthur was hit with such an intense pang of sadness it stole his breath.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve become. Truly. I blame myself for it, but I cannot allow you to continue hurting the people I love,” Merlin’s voice was strained. 

Something flickered in Morgana’s expression that echoed the girl she had once been. She looked  _ lost.  _ But then her face twisted up in anger and Morgana was gone. What stood in her place was a hollow shell, hell-bent on nothing but revenge. The witch began to chant, pouring every ounce of her anger and hatred into her words as she spat them. Merlin stood his ground, even as Morgana sent searing columns of fire sailing through the air at him. 

“Merlin, move!” Arthur yelled in warning. 

Merlin, as always, ignored Arthur. The king watched in awe as Merlin waved his hand and the roaring fire fizzled out as quickly as it had started. Arthur blinked. Merlin hadn’t even uttered a word, but his eyes blazed gold.

Merlin. Merlin had magic.

What the hell? That made absolutely no sense. Merlin was a servant to the king of Camelot. Why would he willingly be a servant? Maybe it was some form of illusion that Morgana has conjured to mess with his head. Arthur dismissed that thought almost immediately. He realized that it had to be true, because he had always known deep down. There had always been something about Merlin that Arthur had never quite been able to put his finger on until now. 

Arthur watched with dumbstruck awe as Merlin stood before his king in a protective stance. He never sent a single spell at Morgana, he simply deflected the unending assault of harmful spells tossed desperately at him. 

“Enough, Morgana,” Merlin yelled over the chaos. 

Morgana just screamed in frustration, pressing forward with renewed vigor. She was becoming more and more unhinged, her brow breaking out in a sweat and her limbs shaking from the effort. Merlin wasn’t even panting. 

_ Just how powerful  _ was  _ he?  _ Arthur wondered, his head spinning. 

Morgana suddenly howled and the ground shook, cracking under their weight. Merlin waved a hand at Arthur and chanted something. Instantly, Arthur felt a slight hum in the air as something warm and comforting and strangely familiar wrapped around him. He understood then that he was protected from the room crumbling and collapsing around him. 

But Merlin had instinctually chosen to protect Arthur, and not himself. 

The ground had begun to swallow Merlin as if it were alive. The sorcerer cried out as the sharp stone cut into his calves and inched steadily upwards. 

It had only been a few moments, but it was enough time for Morgana to prepare another strike while Merlin was distracted. The witch yelled out a string of words Arthur couldn’t understand. 

Merlin had just managed to remove himself from the animated ground, blood dripping down his calves and pooling at his feet, when the spell hit him. Immediately he sank to his knees, clutching at his throat and gasping for breath. 

“ _ Merlin! _ ” Arthur cried out in alarm. 

Arthur heard Morgana’s shrill laughter as he finally pulled himself to his feet, rushing over to his fallen friend who just so happened to also be a powerful sorcerer. The king could feel the warmth of Merlin’s magic still clinging to him. He hoped it was enough to protect the both of them.

Arthur dove in front of Merlin’s prone body just as another malicious spell hurtled towards them. Arthur braced himself against it, but he felt nothing but the warmth of the protection spell growing hot for a moment before it dissipated. He turned his back towards Morgana, confident now that Merlin’s shield was strong enough to protect them for now. Merlin’s head was bowed, his body trembling with shuddering gasps.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, grasping the sorcerer’s shoulders. 

Merlin looked up after a moment, his eyes glistening with hurt and fear, but it looked like he was regaining control over Morgana’s strike. 

“Are you alright?” 

Merlin frowned, looking uncertain. But then he nodded slowly. “The protection charm I put around you broke that spell.” He looked down, shaking his head. “She ripped the air right out of my lungs.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. He almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. 

“You’re not angry?” Merlin asked quietly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes. 

Arthur thought for a moment. He supposed he wasn’t angry, just surprised and confused and admittedly… impressed. He should’ve been angry. He supposed he would’ve been if it had been anyone else. 

“Just get her out of my castle,” Arthur said with a grin. 

Merlin’s calculated, wary expression suddenly melted and instead there was a bright smile. He was covered in dirt and sweat and blood, but he had never looked happier. Arthur held out his arm and Merlin took it, and together they stood and faced Morgana once more. The witch’s anger seemed to have receded somewhat. Instead, she just looked tired and haggard. 

“Why do you continue to stand with him, Emrys? What could he ever offer you?”

Merlin smiled sadly. “Everything. He’s my friend. Something you understood once, not too long ago.”

“He’s no friend to our kind. You’re a fool—a naive peasant.”

“Leave, Morgana. There’s nothing here for you anymore,” Arthur said, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. His eyes were burning. 

Morgana stared at Arthur with vacant eyes. It was far more unsettling than her unrestrained rage. She then looked at Merlin with that same detached gaze. 

“Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me,” she threatened before reciting some kind of transportation spell and vanishing. 

Arthur and Merlin both collapsed with relief onto the floor of the throne room, breathing heavily. They had won. The king locked gazes with Merlin, the sorcerer. He was suddenly overwhelmed with thousands of questions and hundreds of simultaneous answers. Everything about Merlin suddenly made sense but also confused Arthur tremendously. Why  _ was _ Merlin here, defending Arthur so selflessly?

Without warning, Merlin just sort of collapsed onto Arthur, wrapping him in a crushing hug. And then it all fit together in Arthur’s mind. The king lifted his arms and hugged Merlin back, pretending not to notice the sniffling sounds coming from his friend.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur shook his head. “Always such a girl.”

Merlin laughed. “At least I’m not a royal prat.”

Arthur pulled away and ruffled Merlin’s hair good-naturedly. “Come on, let’s get you to Gaius. You’re bleeding all over my throne room.”


	12. The Court Idiot

“Merlin, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Yes, my lord?” 

“How is it that the ‘most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth’ also has the worst lungs to ever exist?”

Merlin looked up from his spellbook with a raised eyebrow, though he looked amused. “I was born with asthma, just like I was born with magic.” The warlock shrugged. “None of us can choose the cards we’re dealt in life, but we  _ can _ choose how to deal with them.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “This wisdom thing is getting annoying. Why don’t you go back to being the court idiot?”

The Court Sorcerer didn’t even respond, his attention set back on the book he was reading. Arthur sighed, but pulled up a chair next to him. He tried to read the book over Merlin’s shoulder, but it was written in an ancient language that Arthur couldn’t translate.

“Do you really think you can find a cure in this book?” 

“I don’t know. To be honest, I never really thought to look before you suggested it.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? It never  _ once  _ crossed your mind? I take it back, you’re still the biggest idiot in all the five kingdoms.”

Merlin huffed. “There’s a spell that I use when it gets really bad and that’s been enough. I just never looked for a permanent solution. I never really had the time.”

“Oh, of course. You  _ never really had the time _ . Obviously.” 

Merlin shrugged again and dipped his head to refocus on his book. Arthur shook his head incredulously. How thick was Merlin that he couldn’t even be bothered to help himself with all that power he had? If Arthur had even a lick of the power Merlin had, he would’ve fixed him years ago. 

A thought suddenly struck Arthur that had him reeling and slightly nauseous. “Merlin, if you knew a spell that could heal you… why didn’t you use it?”

So many times, more than he’d ever like to count, Merlin had been on the brink of death. That time in the dungeons, or about a year ago when he got deathly sick… Arthur shivered at the memory of Merlin gasping and wheezing, too weak to continue and too breathless to even speak. Or even worse, the moment when Arthur had been sure Merlin was gone, when his breathing had stopped altogether. 

Merlin sat back in his chair, turning his head to meet Arthur in the eye. “You know why I couldn’t.”

_ Oh.  _ And that’s all there was to it, wasn’t it? Merlin couldn’t use magic to even save himself because he had been too afraid to. He had been too afraid of  _ Arthur _ , of what he might do. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. 

But it didn’t stop the dreadful pit of guilt from growing in Arthur’s gut. “You could’ve died,” he whispered. 

Merlin smiled half-heartedly. “But I didn’t. Thanks to you. You saved me so many times.”

“But if I hadn’t been there, you could’ve just saved yourself on your own without all that unnecessary suffering.”

“Perhaps. But the time that I had lung fever, there was nothing even I could’ve done, I was so sick. You had Gaius save me with magic and you did it all on your own.”

“Stop trying to justify it. So many people have suffered because of my father’s hypocrisy and my own ignorance. I wish I could just go back and—”

“As much as you may want to, you cannot alter the past, Arthur. You have to look to the future and shape it the way your heart tells you to.”

“I don’t understand how you can just forgive me so easily.”

Merlin’s eyes were soft and bright as he smiled. “Just let it go, Arthur.”

“You just find a cure and maybe then I’ll let it go.”

“Prat.”

“Idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story idea struck me at 3am the other night and simply would not let me REST until I had jotted it down. So. Here we are. 
> 
> Usually, Merlin uses a bit of his magic to help with his attacks. However, when there are witnesses (such as Prince Arthur himself), he has no choice but to take the medication. With the side effects, he obviously prefers to use magic, but it doesn’t always work out that way! Poor Merlin, I’m so evil. Let me know what you guys think!


End file.
